It is worse this week than it was last week. Last week I could throw all of my energy into the details, into helping my grandmother or other members of the family. I felt like my job was to make everyone else ok. I needed to hear the stories and say the right things and fix the flowers so everyone else would feel less stressed. My words, my stories, even my feelings served other peoples' purpose--to make them feel better. Maybe I am more like my grandpa than I knew. Maybe I have been spending too much time focusing on protecting others. Maybe I need to spend more time grieving. To feel the hurt. In order to begin to heal.